Ghosts of The Past
by icyfire
Summary: On the tenth anniversary of Danny's death, the ghosts of the past come to haunt Francie, revealing to her a devastating secret about her husband.
1. Default Chapter

TITLE: Ghosts of The Past  
  
AUTHOR: Robin (icyfire)  
  
EMAIL: icyfire@webtv.net  
  
FEEDBACK: Yes, please. Praise or constructive crit welcomed with open arms.  
  
DISTRIBUTION: CD of course. Anyone else please ask.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. JJ, ABC, Bad Robot, Touchstone. Anyone else?  
  
SUMMARY: On the tenth anniversary of Danny's death, the ghosts of the past come to haunt Francie, revealing to her a devastating secret about her husband.  
  
RATING: Uh, PG-13 to be safe. This part is G.  
  
CLASSIFICATION: Angst, action/adventure (I hope)  
  
A/N: For Jenai, who asked for angsty wancie.  
  
And, yes, I don't believe it. I'm actually posting a WIP. Don't think it is smart idea. Doing it anyway.  
  
***  
  
"I'm sorry, Amy," Francie said as she handed her the last dish to dry.  
  
Her sister-in-law smiled at her. Her eyes said that the smile was forced. "You don't have anything to apologize about, Francie. The meal was wonderful. As always," she grumbled good-naturedly. It was an old joke between them, although Amy had become a good cook in her own way. With a lot of help from Francie.  
  
"The meal was good, but the conversation was something else," Francie said from behind gritted teeth. "I wanted to strangle that brother of yours tonight."  
  
Reaching to put up the plates, Amy looked over her shoulder and said, "You warned me that tonight would not be a good night."  
  
Francie tossed the dishrag into the sink and grabbed up the dishtowel to her left. "Well, it has been ten years. He can get over it."  
  
Amy turned and leaned against the counter. "Get over what? Ten years? Francie, I didn't even know Will tonight. When I called you this morning and told you about my promotion, I couldn't believe it when you tried to get me to wait until tomorrow to tell him. I knew that Will would be thrilled for me."  
  
She crossed her arms and looked down at her shoes. "Only he wasn't."  
  
Sighing, Francie reached over for her water glass. "He was thrilled for you, Amy. He really tried to show it, but tonight--" Tears stabbed at her eyes, making her angrier. "The fact he ate dinner with us says a lot about how much he cares for you."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
Francie looked over her shoulder in the general direction of her husband's office. Even if she could see it, she wouldn't be able to see him. The door to that room--and him--was firmly closed. "I don't, either." She looked back at Amy's distressed face. "For one day a year, I live with a stranger."  
  
Amy stared at her. "Why just this one day?"  
  
"I wish I knew!" Francie threw her hands in the air. "He says it's about Danny."  
  
"Danny?" Amy eyebrows knotted. "Oh, you mean Sydney's fiancÃ©. He was killed around this time, wasn't he?"  
  
Francie nodded, remembering the phone call from Sydney. The minute Sydney had said her name she had known something was wrong. The same way she had known five years later when Will had made the same type of call. "Ten years ago today. He says it is the day everything changed."  
  
After licking her lips, Amy asked, "What changed?"  
  
"I don't know," Francie whispered. "I don't know. If this was the anniversary of Syd's death, I would understand. I would. But he's almost happier on that day than normal. He goes to Sydney's grave--and Jack's-- and puts down flowers and goes on with life. But on this anniversary--"  
  
Someone pounded on the back door, making Francie and Amy both jump. "I don't need this tonight," Francie muttered, and Amy nodded her understanding. It was probably someone from the paper wanting Will, demanding he leave his family without notice or explanation.  
  
She flinched when she saw an old bag lady standing in front of her. Her hair was a natty gray, and it didn't look like it had been washed in years. She didn't smell that bad, but Francie could smell her clothes. Old sweat. The shirt was three sizes too large, and the pants two sizes two small. "I'm sorry--" Francie began but the old woman forced her way into the house. "Excuse me!"  
  
"Tell Willie boy that I want to see him," she barked as she stopped in front of Amy. Her sister-in-law looked at Francie and saw the plea in her eyes. She turned on her heels and marched towards Will's office. "He is here, isn't he?" The softer voice sounded almost familiar.  
  
"Yeah, Will's here, but I don't think he's going to like how you forced your way in here," Francie started. Her stomach rolled with fear. Her son was sleeping a hallway away. Was he in danger? She slowly began edging her way towards the kitchen counter where her knifes rested in their block.  
  
She opened her mouth to say more when the lady froze. She was staring at the pictures on the wall. "Is that your little boy?" The harsh guttural tone of her voice was disappearing even more. Francie shivered at the sound. It sounded too familiar, and she didn't why it frightened her.  
  
Will followed Amy into the kitchen. "I don't who she is, Amy, but--"  
  
He stopped walking and talking when he caught sight of the woman before him. Francie saw recognition play across his face and relaxed.  
  
"Hello, Will," the old lady said in a voice that sounded too young. Francie strained to remember how she knew that voice.  
  
Her jaw fell open when her husband grabbed hold of the woman and hugged her close. "Sydney," he whispered, and Francie felt her world fall apart.  
  
End 1/?  
  
Thanks for reading! 


	2. Chapter two

He found her sleeping in the guest bedroom. Well, she wasn't actually sleeping; just pretending to be. He could tell by the way she lay that she was awake and thinking. "Hey," he whispered into the darkness.  
  
Leaning against the wall, he strained to watch his wife in the moonlight. White beams had forced their way into the room through the partially opened curtains, washing everything in a dim light. He could see it reflecting in her eyes as she stared at him. "Hey," she finally responded.  
  
"Why are you in here?" he asked, although he knew the answer. She was making a statement. They never slept apart, not in their own home. When he was away on assignment, they spent their nights alone, although Will wasn't usually sleeping. He worked in a business that thrived in the darkness.  
  
Her shoulders shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time," she whispered. "Now, I--" She sighed and the sheets rustled as her legs moved. "I don't know."  
  
He took a step into the room. "I went to see Amy before I came home. She wasn't happy with me, and she said you wouldn't talk to her."  
  
Francie's laugh was strangled. "I didn't know what to say."  
  
Crossing his arms, he took one more step closer to her. "I didn't either."  
  
Silence filled the room. Finally, she asked the question. "How you could you not tell me?" Francie sat up in the bed, and he could feel the accusation in eyes he couldn't see.  
  
He tried to find the words to answer, but they wouldn't come. After practicing this very scenario so many times in his mind, he should know what to say to her. He strolled over to the window and pushed opened the curtain more. The neighborhood was asleep. Everything was nice and normal. Just like he liked it.  
  
"I envied you the not knowing," he answered. He hadn't known it until he said it. Now, he could taste that envy. It was bitter on his tongue.  
  
"What?" He heard Francie moving again on the bed. He turned and saw that she was sitting just as he pictured, with her arms around her knees. "I thought Sydney was dead, Will. How the hell could you envy that?"  
  
He remembered calling her, lying to her about Sydney. They had been friends then, friends with a hint of something more that neither of them had taken the chance to investigate. She had screamed when he told her that their friend had died in a car crash. Somehow, through his own tears, he had managed to tell her that Sydney and Jack had died instantly. His tears had been real; he knew that Sydney was as good as dead to him. He had mourned the loss of Jack, his friend and mentor, just as much.  
  
"She was dead to you, Francie. She couldn't be hurt anymore, and I wish I had that peace, but to me she was a target. A target I couldn't ask about, a target I would never be told about. You could sleep through the night without worrying about her, but nightmares about what could be happening to her--things I would never knew happened--have haunted me for almost five years."  
  
He stepped closer to the bed and held out his hand. "Do you understand that?"  
  
She stared at him, and he wanted to shiver. He felt like a stranger in his own home. To his own wife. Now, he understood what Sydney had tried to tell him about Paris.  
  
"You looked at me like I was a stranger, Will."  
  
"No, I didn't, Sydney. I mean, I was shocked, but I knew it was you," he protested.  
  
Seeing Sydney in the horrible red wig, watching her take down men twice her size, he had stared at her like she was a stranger. He had stared at her like Francie was now staring at him.  
  
"I don't understand anything anymore, Will. Sydney and Jack are both alive. You knew it. She came to you for help because Jack and some other people have been taken by a man I've never heard of before--"  
  
He put his finger over her lips. "I work for the CIA." It was amazing how easy it was to say the words, to admit what he had tried to hide for so long. Of course, she probably had already figured that much out from his earlier conversation with their "dead" friend. "Sydney and Jack did, too."  
  
He saw Francie mind working. He saw the understanding dawn in her eyes. "SD-6. They helped take down SD-6. That's how you got started on that story."  
  
Will nodded. "Yeah. As many times as you and everyone has asked me, I could never admit how I started researching that story. I could never tell anyone that I always think of it as the 'Daniel Hecht' story."  
  
Francie's gasp filled the air. He nodded as reached out and gently stroked her hands. "I kept researching it, Francie, even after Sydney--and you-- asked me not to." He'd thought a lot about Francie's words as he slid into the world of espionage. She'd tried to warn him that the Kate Jones story would have a bad end. She didn't know how true her words were; she'd thought the bad ending would be seeing Sydney hurt and angered by his actions.  
  
"I wanted her to have answers," he explained. "But she already had them. And by the time I found that out, I was so far in that I had two options: witness protection or recruitment."  
  
He laid his hand on top of hers and told her more of the truth. A part of the truth that might help her understand why he--why they--had never told her the truth. "SD-6 killed Danny because Sydney told him that she worked for them."  
  
Silence filled the air for several moments. "Please tell me that she was one of those that didn't know." She knew all about SD-6; the entire world did now. His stories on the mercenary group had been published in nearly every language around the globe.  
  
"She thought she worked for a black ops division of the CIA."  
  
Francie stared back at him, and he felt as if her eyes were burning into him. "She took off a long time after Danny died."  
  
"She hadn't planned on going back," he informed her. "Sloane gave her a month off, and she took three. She couldn't go back. She didn't believe in what they were doing anymore."  
  
He took in a deep breath. "They tried to kill her."  
  
The moonlight glistened off her tears. "I never even had a clue."  
  
"I didn't either." He looked down at the blanket on the bed. They had found it on their honeymoon. Francie had loved all the different colors in the pattern. "But then Sydney never knew about Jack either until he helped save her that day."  
  
"I thought he imported airplane parts," Francie said with a chuckle. It was not the sound of amusement.  
  
"Exported," he said with a smile. "Syd did, too. Francie, to make a long story short, Jack told her the truth about SD-6 that night. She went and got something that SD-6 wanted so she could get back into their good graces, and then she went to the CIA." He could still hear Jack in his mind telling him the facts about Sydney's life. His mouth had been throbbing and his brain had been spinning from fear and pain and information overload as he waited with Jack for Sydney and Vaughn to return from destroying the Circumference.  
  
"The people she'd thought she was working for," she realized.  
  
He nodded. "Yeah, and it was then that she found out that Jack was a double agent, too."  
  
Even in the dim light, he could see Francie smile, could feel the tension in her body leave. "Remember that horrible movie we watched that time? Oh, what was the name of it? Sydney kept getting upset because they called that one girl a double."  
  
"She's a triple," Will said, trying to sound like Sydney had that night.  
  
"Yeah," she sighed. "I don't remember the plot, the name, or anything, but I remember us laughing at how upset Sydney was about it."  
  
Francie leaned forward and touched her hand to his cheek. "Did you know then?"  
  
He shook his head. "No, not then."  
  
"When?" Her voice told him that she wouldn't take anything less than the truth.  
  
He closed his eyes as memories played across his mind. Sydney jumping through the air, her legs spinning like a helicopter's blades, saving him from a gun being pointed at his head. The evil smile and the feel of the dentist's breath on his face as the man said hello. Somehow, he kept himself from shuddering at the memory. He'd been tortured since, but the horror of the first time remained fresh.  
  
Looking into his wife's eyes, he told her a truth he didn't want to admit. "I was never car jacked."  
  
Francie's eyebrows snapped up, and she shook her head. "But the bruises--"  
  
"An enemy of Sydney's kidnapped me, tortured me, for those six days."  
  
Francie shuddered, but when he reached out to hug her, she pulled away and held up her hand. "You were tortured?"  
  
"Yes," he admitted in a weak voice. He cleared his throat as he decided not to tell her that the same enemy--or almost the same--was now threatening Sydney and him again. He didn't tell her that Khasinau had ordered his kidnapping all those years ago, and he didn't tell her that he was the man who'd kidnapped Jack, Vaughn, and little Will, Sydney's son. "Yes, I was."  
  
Francie stumbled from the bed. Will stood and tried to follow her. "Don't!" She leaned her head against the wall, and he could see that one hand was across her stomach. He could hear her crying, and he wanted to do something, say something, to make it better.  
  
She finally turned to look at him, and he knew from the way she was leaning on the wall that she was using it for support. "Who are you?"  
  
His words in Paris echoed in his mind: "Who are you people?"  
  
"I'm still the same person, Francie," he explained as he walked towards her. "I'm me: Will Tippin. The guy who needs a hug from you the minute he gets home from work. The guy you love laughing with. The guy you watch sappy old movies with."  
  
"The guy who's been lying to me for nine years." The trembling was gone. The words were firm, angry.  
  
"Francie--"  
  
"I need time, Will. Give me some time," she told him. Now, she was pleading with him. The anger was gone. She rested her head back against the wall and stared at him.  
  
He stared back at her, but he couldn't find any words to make her change her mind. Turning on his heels, he walked out of the room and left her alone.  
  
***  
  
End 2/???  
  
A/N: Sorry that this has taken so long. I'm reminded why I don't do WIPs anymore. :) The next part will come much sooner. 


	3. Chapter three

Okay, this part is up a little sooner. Thank you for your patience. :)  
  
Now, on with the story . . .  
  
***  
  
The resonance of the knife striking the cutting board echoed across the room. No one was paying any attention to the sound but her. It was a background noise to them, but it was providing her a sense of satisfaction. Thump. She wished that she were chopping a nice smelly onion so she could cry and no one would think to ask any questions.  
  
She felt someone's hands on her shoulders right before she heard her sister- in-law's voice. "Tanya, would you mind finishing up these tomatoes?"  
  
Francie strained to smile and said, "Tanya has enough work to do, Amy. I can finish these up and take a break in a couple of minutes."  
  
"Francie." Tanya laid her hand on her boss's arm. "Go with Amy. I can finish the tomatoes."  
  
Francie turned to find that every one of her employees was looking at her. Not one was moving in the usually hectic kitchen. They looked as if they were expecting her head to roll off her shoulders. And she thought she had done a great job faking normal all morning. "I look that bad."  
  
Tanya nodded. "Yeah, hon, you do. Go sit down with Amy. We can run this place without you right now."  
  
She wanted to protest. She wanted to do her part, but she knew her heart and mind weren't in this kitchen today. "I'm getting in the way, aren't I?"  
  
Tanya, a woman who had worked closely with her for over five years, grinned. "For the first time ever, yeah, honey, you are. You're here in body, but not in soul." She leaned in closer and whispered, "And considering the fact that you were in labor the first day I worked here, and I never even realized it until you were about to pop, I think you need to take today off. Hell, as your manager I'm ordering you to go home. I'll call in Sally to fill in. She wants the overtime anyway."  
  
Francie looked around the room at all the people who were a family to her. She hated seeing the worry in their eyes, and if she stayed they would be concentrating on her instead of getting their jobs done. She nodded. "Yeah, I think I will."  
  
"If that man of yours cheated on you," Margaret, a cook, said as she strolled by with a hug pan in her arms, "go home and cut his peepee off. That'll stop the straying real fast."  
  
Francie was stunned by the thought, but she could tell a few of the others had already discussed the idea. Anger flashed in Amy's eyes, but before she could say anything Tanya popped up. "Margaret, she's married to Will Tippin. There wasn't any straying."  
  
"Any man's capable," the older lady proclaimed. Margaret's first husband had left her for his secretary. Her second husband had recently run off with her best friend. Men were not her favorite creatures right now, even if they were her favorite topic.  
  
"Will isn't," Tanya answered before turning her attention back to Francie. "Now get out of here; I have a lunch rush to prepare for."  
  
Giving Tanya a hug, Francie whispered thanks into her ear. "You've always been here for me."  
  
Francie could feel Tanya's blush. "Well, you gave me a job when no one in their right mind would have. Then, you were crazy enough to promote me to manager."  
  
"You deserved it. No one works harder," Francie replied, pulling away.  
  
"Except you. Now go!" Tanya gave her a gentle push and turned to assign someone the task of slicing the tomatoes while she called Sally.  
  
***  
  
"Mom called me," Amy said after they'd left the cool confines of the restaurant. The noise of the street surrounded them. A man stormed past them, yelling into cell phones. A mother walked by fusing at her kids. A car horn honked. The sound of a diesel engine roared through the air.  
  
Francie somehow still felt disconnected from it all. It was familiar, and she usually loved everything about living in a city, about her restaurant, but right now everything felt unfamiliar, unrelated to her.  
  
She nodded and sighed. "I didn't want to worry Patsy, but--"  
  
"Mom's always worried about us," Amy said. She held open the door to Sam's, a neighborhood bar that the Tippins' frequented.  
  
"Moms are supposed to worry," Francie answered as she slid into their favorite booth in the corner.  
  
Amy held up two fingers, and Danny the bartender nodded. "She told me that you asked her and dad to pick up Johnny tonight; you wanted them to keep him for a week or two."  
  
"Until life gets settled again," Francie said. Until his mother's world stopped spinning out of control. She tried to smile as Karen, their usual waitress, sat down two bottles of beers in front of them. Amy muttered a thank you at Karen, whose eyebrows shot up in concern before she left them alone.  
  
Amy took a long swig of her beer and then began playing with the label. She glanced up and then focused back on fingers. "So, the arguing is that bad?"  
  
Francie closed her eyes. "No, Amy, it isn't. We haven't even fought about this, yet. We talked a little last night, but I couldn't handle it." She sighed. "And this morning, Syd came over for breakfast, and we all sat around talking. No, actually, they sat talking about things that don't make any sense to me. Handlers and K-Directorates and--."  
  
She opened her eyes. "Johnny can handle arguing. It's a part of life; I've always made sure that John knows that when his daddy and I fight that it's okay, that mommy and daddy still love each other."  
  
She shook her head and took a swallow of her beer as she watched a man enter the bar. He was talking on a cell phone, laughing at whatever the person on the other side was saying. "But I can't be the mom he needs right now. I'm living with a stranger, Amy, and I don't know--"  
  
"Francie, he's still Will. Last night, when he stopped by my house, the first thing he did was fuss at me for not having my door locked. Said my boss needed his head examined for giving me that promotion because I didn't have the sense to lock the nuts out." She grinned. "I told him that he was a jerk."  
  
She lost her smile. "And then we talked about the big surprise last night, and he hinted at what he really did for a living, and told me that he'd lied to protect you and us." She took a sip of her beer. "I told him was he was a jerk."  
  
Francie stared into eyes that had always reminded her of Will's. "When he came back home last night, he tried telling me that he's the same Will, but I know that's a lie." She swallowed. "See, the Will I knew would never ever lie to me. Not even about the unimportant stuff. He would never hide anything from me. And, see, that Will doesn't exist." She grasped the bottle with both hands. "Maybe he never did. Or maybe he did before he was 'car jacked'."  
  
Her sister-in-law looked at her with a question in her eyes, but Francie found that she couldn't answer it. Will needed to take care of explaining his own lies. She couldn't talk about them, any more than she could talk about watching her husband and best friend share their secrets over toast. Watching them talk, she thought about how many years she'd watched Will yearn for Syd, and she wondered if he still did.  
  
"Syd named her son Will," she mumbled.  
  
Amy smiled and motioned for another beer. "This--this--whatever it is--is just weird. Really weird."  
  
Karen sat down two more bottles in front of them. Francie could see the worry in her eyes, but she didn't have the strength to offer even fake "I'm okay" statements. "Yeah," she said with a sigh. "I was sitting there eating breakfast with my husband and my 'dead' best friend--who happened to be dressed as a smelly bag lady--thinking that I'd slipped into the twilight zone."  
  
Amy whistled the familiar theme. Francie laughed with her until she thought about the scene at breakfast again. She stopped laughing, and she hoped she had the strength to hold back the tears. Amy was really worried about her and Will; Francie knew she was, and she didn't want to burden Will's kid sister, but--  
  
"Syd was smiling and telling me about her little Will, and I looked over at my Will and realized that Jonathan had been named after Jack." She snorted and leaned back into the bench seat. "My son's named after a man I never even liked. Hell, I don't even know why, because as far as I know, Will didn't even really know Jack."  
  
Francie drowned down the rest of her second bottle of beer. She wished that she didn't need to pick her son up from daycare and get him ready to stay with his grandparents. She wished he wouldn't cry about leaving his mom and dad, although she knew he would. Just like she knew he would love his time away from them once he got settled in with Robert and Patsy. "I would love to get drunk," she announced.  
  
Amy grinned. "I'm planning on getting drunk. I've already invited Jason over with strict orders to bring pizza and booze. He thinks I want to celebrate my promotion."  
  
"It's getting really serious, isn't it?" Francie asked.  
  
Nodding, Amy sighed. "Yeah, it is. I'm afraid it is."  
  
Francie leaned over and rested her elbows on the table. "Amy, honey, you're going to make him a great wife and he's going to make you a great husband. Jason's a great guy."  
  
"Well, he hasn't asked or even hinted at anything that serious, yet," Amy said with a grin. She smiled at Danny, who nodded his understanding and reached for two more bottles.  
  
Francie laughed. "Don't tell me that my wonderful, modern sister-in-law thinks the man should do the asking when it comes to marriage?"  
  
Amy shifted around and grinned. "Well, yeah, sort of. It'd be nice to be the one asked." She laughed as two more bottled appeared on the table. "But if he doesn't get around to asking soon, I might just get impatient."  
  
Laughing, Francie picked up her beer and tilted the bottle in Amy's direction. "Now that's my girl."  
  
"Well," Amy told her, "it won't be tonight. Tonight is about getting drunk, stuffing myself with comfort foods, cuddling on the couch, and watching some nice brainless dick flick."  
  
"Oh, lord, are the summer releases already out on DVD?" Francie moaned.  
  
"Yep, and Jason wants to watch every one of them," Amy said with a laugh.  
  
Francie tried to smile, too. "What's wrong?" Amy asked.  
  
She wanted to lie, to say that she was okay, but she just didn't have the strength. "I'm just thinking about--" She shook her head. Tears started to flow from her eyes, and she angrily wiped at them. "Yesterday, I would've wanted to punch Margaret for even daring to suggest that Will would even look at another woman." Francie could see that Amy wanted to protest, but she wanted Francie to talk more. The strain of holding her tongue was showing on her face.  
  
"I would've counted to ten--and then counted to ten again--before reminding myself that she's having a rough time right now. That it wasn't personal. But today, when I heard those words, I wondered." She didn't even bother to hide the tears now. It was getting hard to speak, and she hated hearing how choked up her own voice sounded. "Amy, Will's willing to lie for his country. How can I be sure he's not willing to fuck for it, too?"  
  
Amy waited a minute before she answered. "My immediate response is that there's no way in hell that my brother would do that you." She ran a shaking hand through her brown hair. "But then, I'm also having this really hard time picturing Will being James Bond, too, so I--"  
  
She leaned forward. "Talk to him, Francie. Let's order us some lunch, go do some shopping or something until you're ready to face Jonathan, get him over to Mom and Dad's, and then you spend the night talking to the jackass."  
  
Francie tried to smile. "That sounds like a plan." She nodded and waved at Karen. "If he's home," she whispered. Instead of out saving the world with Sydney. Maybe he would be home because he knew he needed to be with her. Maybe they'd already found Syd's family and had shipped them off to somewhere new. And maybe pigs would fly one day.  
  
Karen was smiling as she yanked out her pad. "What can I get you for lunch?"  
  
My old life back is what Francie wanted to order. Instead, she asked for a hamburger with all the fixings.  
  
*** End 3/?  
  
Next: Francie asks Will some tough questions, and she hears some answers she doesn't want to hear. 


	4. Chapter four

A/N: Just in case there was any doubt, the season premiere made this AU. :)  
  
*** Will smelled popcorn as soon as he opened the door. He walked into the still lit living room and sighed. Francie lay on the couch, an afghan covering her. The blue screen told him that she'd been watching DVDs. He walked over and noticed the case on the floor--"His Girl Friday."  
  
"You said it made you want to be a reporter," his wife whispered behind him.  
  
He clicked off the TV and turned to look at the beautiful woman who had agreed to marry him almost seven years ago. The mother of his son. And she now knew that he had been living a lie the entire time they'd been married. "I haven't watched it in years."  
  
"Why?" Francie whispered as she rubbed her eyes and sat up.  
  
"Honestly?" Will picked up one of their overstuffed pillows and sat down on the other end of the couch. He leaned his chin down onto the pillow. "It makes me uncomfortable. Reminds me of what my job as a reporter was supposed to be, what I imagined it to be, and how I actually turned out."  
  
Francie leaned forward and picked up a glass of water from the coffee table. She took a sip, and Will knew she was wishing it was whiskey. She was ready to talk; Will just wished he was more ready to answer.  
  
He was drained. After a night of no sleep, he'd spent the day following false clues in between meetings with bureaucrats who didn't understand the game. Even those that did understand, didn't offer a lot of hope. Everyone was putting their faith in one man being able to help them, but so far he had been impossible to track down.  
  
"You're always winning awards and getting praised--"  
  
"But I'm not honest, Francie. Not to my readers. I tell them what the CIA lets me; at least most of the time. Sometimes I have time to investigate a local story, and I get to share everything I find out, but--" He shook his head. "It's just not the way I thought it would be. I'm supposed to be an observer, but most of the time I'm part of the story, even if I don't report that I am."  
  
Shaking her head, Francie stood up. Then, she sat back down with a sigh. She asked, "How did you get involved in all this Will? How did Sydney? When did she become a spy?"  
  
Will saw the hurt in her eyes, and realized that she was also hurt that her best friend--the woman she'd shared everything with--hadn't shared everything with her. Will sat up straight and rubbed his forehead. "She was recruited in her freshman year."  
  
"Of college?  
  
Will nodded. "Yeah."  
  
Fran closed her eyes. "I knew when I transferred back here that she didn't seem the same. More confident. Excited. I thought it was school. Idiot."  
  
He leaned over but she jerked away before he could touch her. "Francie, you're not an idiot. She was trained--"  
  
"You both lied to me for years, Will, and I never even suspected it." She stood up and took in a deep breath. "So, how did you get involved?"  
  
He sighed. "I did what Sydney asked me not to do. What you asked me not to do." She stared at him. "I kept researching Danny's death. Remember me talking about Kate Jones?" Francie shook her head. "Well, she was supposed to have flown out with Danny the night he died. Kate Jones was one of Sydney's aliases. One clue led to another which led to another, and the next thing I'm know I'm being rescued from a Paris nightclub by a red- wig wearing Sydney."  
  
She started pacing a few steps. He could see all of her emotions playing on her face. Concern. Confusion. Frustration. Stopping, she stared at him. "Have you ever used 'pillow talk' to get information?"  
  
It took him a moment to even understand the question. "What?"  
  
He could see that Francie's hands were shaking as she crossed her arms. "Everyone at work could tell that I wasn't myself today. Margaret thought you were cheating." She looked at him through sparkling eyes. "Have you?"  
  
He ran his hand through his hair. "No," he finally answered. He looked away as he finished explaining. "I was ordered to once. I almost did. We were both half undressed before I pulled away." He forced himself to look at her. "I couldn't go through with it."  
  
He didn't tell her about the risks he took to get the information another way. She didn't need to know that he almost died, or that the CIA had been furious with him for risking himself in such a foolish way. Weiss, his handler, had understood though. "I'd rather take the riskier choice, too, Sir, than to cheat on my wife. If Collette ever found out, she'd kill me in a far more painful manner than K-Directorate can even think of," he had told Devlin. He had said it in his usual joking manner, but Will knew Weiss's wife. Collette was not a woman to cross.  
  
He saw doubt in Francie's eyes, and he felt like he'd been punched in the gut. She had never doubted him before, had never known that maybe she should. She walked over to the window and leaned her forehead onto it. "Did you ever sleep with Sydney?"  
  
His breath rushed out of him. He couldn't believe she was asking this question. More than anything he wanted to lie, and not only to protect her from more pain. "Yes," he said, watching her back muscles tighten. "Once. In Berlin."  
  
She gasped, and Will stood up. "It wasn't--" He ran his hand through his hair and struggled to explain Berlin. He didn't want to talk about it; he wanted to forget. "It wasn't like--Francie, it wasn't about sex."  
  
She turned to stare at him. "Not about sex? How can two people having sex not be about having sex, Will?"  
  
He took a step forward. "When it's about being alive." He looked down into the eyes of his wife, and he saw a barrier there that had never been there before. "Syd and I--" He blew out a breath. "We--It was a hard mission." He shook his head, trying to get the screams out of his head. His and Sydney's and Jack's all mingled together.  
  
He realized he was crying. "We thought that--Anyway, we just needed to be reminded that we were alive. It wasn't--"  
  
Francie reached up and wiped his cheek. "I hate it. I hate knowing that you were in pain, and that I didn't know. What has hurt you? What has excited you? You used to be so open, or at least I thought you were. I thought we shared almost everything. Now I know that we hardly shared anything."  
  
"Francie, I've shared everything that's important."  
  
She looked at him with disbelief written across her face. "Will, you've been hurt--"  
  
"And it doesn't really matter," he told her. "It's a job. I do it well. I'm proud of it. But what really matters is right here. With you and Johnny."  
  
"I feel like you're a stranger, Will," she told him.  
  
He took her hand in between his. "I understand, Francie. I really do; I felt the same way when I found out about Sydney."  
  
Francie stared at him. "Really? Will, we're married. As much as you cared for Sydney, I'm hoping that we're a hell of a lot closer. We have a son together! A son I just realized today was named after Jack Bristow."  
  
She pulled her hand away, and his arms fell by his side. "Jack did a lot for me, Francie. He kept me alive, protected me from my own actions."  
  
Francie shook her head. "You have this whole life that I never even--"  
  
Will opened his mouth just as cell phone rang. His fingers itched to toss it against the wall. He watched his wife's shoulders slump. "Answer it. I know you need to be there for Syd."  
  
"Francie--"  
  
"Answer it," she said again. "I do understand. But as soon as this is over--"  
  
"I'll be your slave," he joked as the phone continued to ring. He reached over and squeezed her shoulders as he kissed her forehead. The fact she didn't flinch gave him hope that she might be willing to forgive him. "Tippin," he said into the phone.  
  
"Will," Sydney's voice rang out over the tiny earpiece. He could hear the excitement in her voice, and he felt his own heart start to race. "We've tracked him down. He's in San Francisco, and our plane leaves in an hour." 


	5. Chapter five

"I'm getting too old for blue hair," Will muttered as he opened the car door.  
  
Sydney walked around the car and patted his leather-covered back. "You look great. Francie would love to see you in that outfit."  
  
Will winced, thinking of his earlier argument with his wife. The costumes, the weird wigs, were all a part of that other life she hated. "Actually, I think she'd use these chains to hang me with." He fingered the metal accessories as the walked through the throng of people surrounding the hot nightclub. The pounding music was making his teeth ache.  
  
Sydney flashed a grin in his direction. "Those chains aren't big enough to get around your neck. You're safe."  
  
"There are other parts from which a man can be hung," he answered as he studied the guards. He wrapped his arm around Syd and drew her close, trying to look like a man out with his girlfriend.  
  
Sydney leaned into him, and he knew that she was doing the same thing he was--trying to decide which guard to approach. He saw her eyes rest on the one on the right, the same one he thought would be their best bet. That man had an air about him that spoke of an intelligence--a knowledge--that the others simply didn't have.  
  
"I'm sorry that I showed up at your place," she whispered, even though the crowd and music would have drowned out a normal conversation. She wrapped her arm around him. It always amazed him how easily she could play the clingy ditzy girlfriend.  
  
"I know," he told her, squeezing her elbow. "But you didn't have anywhere else to go." He leaned in, pretending to kiss her. He laid his forehead on hers. "I told Francie about Berlin."  
  
She tensed up in his arms. "What?" She pulled away, looked around and remembered her cover and forced a grin on her lips. "Why?"  
  
"Because she asked," he told her. "And I couldn't lie. It's strange. I never thought how hard it was for you to answer all my questions back then. How hard it is to admit all the truths you want to forget."  
  
"Francie must be devastated." She laid her head on his shoulder. He knew tears were in her eyes. "My mother hurts everyone I love, even from the grave."  
  
"It's not your fault," he told her as he wrapped his arms around her again. "We're going to get them back. Khasinau expects you to follow his orders; he wasn't expecting you to track him down."  
  
Sydney nodded. "I'm just hoping he doesn't still have someone inside the CIA." The analysts all believed that Khasinau was weak, that this was a last ditch effort to get revenge. But, as he had learned in this business, there were always surprises.  
  
He watched as her fist clenched. "We are going to get them back," she declared as she pulled away from him and started strutting towards the front of the line. She was using that walk, the one he used to think of as the NotSydney one. He'd been a part of her spying life almost a year before he realized that the sexy siren walk was as much a part of her as her relaxed stroll.  
  
"I'm sorry, Miss--" The man on the right had his hand on Sydney's arm, and Will resisted the urge to hit him. She could take care of herself.  
  
"I need to see Mr. D'Anglis," she said with a sexy grin. Even with that smile, she managed to sound like a princess talking to a peasant.  
  
The man laughed. "I'm afraid that Mr. D'Anglis is too busy--"  
  
Sydney took a step forward and pressed her body next to his. The smirk on his face said it was a ploy he was used to, but that knowing grin disappeared when she whispered, "Then maybe I should have asked to speak to Mr. Sark instead."  
  
He nodded and turned to the other two guards. "I need to show these people in; I'll be right back." Will almost felt like laughing at the look of shock on the men's faces.  
  
Two other guards started walking beside them as soon as they made their way through the door. The man from outside kept in front of them, whispering into his label mic the entire time. They worked there way through the moving mass of people. Will watched them and wondered if any of them knew the joy of staying home.  
  
He shook his head at the thought, wondering when he had gotten to be so old. Then, he thought of playing with Johnny on the floor, making tractor noises while his son supplied the oinking of the pigs. Francie had been sitting on the couch, a book lying in her lap, smiling as she watched them. Yeah, he might be old, but staying home was a joy he was tired of giving up.  
  
They walked into a room and the sound of the music became muted. Sark sat at the head of the table, and various men and women sat around him. Sark looked older, of course. Will didn't know why he hadn't been expecting it. He hadn't seen him since their last encounter; the day "The Man's" organization and SD-6 had fallen in one giant swoop. The Alliance had followed the next year.  
  
Sark grinned when he saw them. "Leave us alone," he ordered. Sark's lackeys looked at one another, but stood up and followed orders. The smiling blonde-haired man, their old enemy, stood and walked over towards them. "As lovely as always," he said as he kissed Sydney's cheek.  
  
He rubbed his forehead when he turned to look at Will. The scar was barely noticeable, but Will remembered watching the blood gush from that cut. "I never thanked you for this, did I, Mr. Tippin?"  
  
Strolling around the table, he laughed. "I admit that I wasn't too pleased that night, but I admit that it makes my associates take me more seriously now. I guess I finally looked my age," he said as he sat down. "Please, have a seat."  
  
"You know why we're here." Sydney's voice was ice cold.  
  
Will sat down next to her and wondered it this was going to be easy or hard. They didn't have time for hard, and Sark probably knew that as well as they did. Taking a sip of wine, Sark smiled. "You never knew how to exchange pleasantries, did you? Just like your father that way. I would ask how Jack is doing, but I'm sure you don't know."  
  
Sydney's hands clenched on the table. "Khasinau would have had to have had your help in order to pull this off."  
  
Will almost groaned when he saw Sark's eyes sparkle. "Sydney, please. We all know that the CIA doesn't have the first inkling about Khasinau, that his actions blindsided them. As usual."  
  
He held up a bottle that Will could tell was expensive by its looks alone. "Some wine?"  
  
"No, thank you," Will answered for them both.  
  
Sark topped his own glass. He picked it up and swirled the liquid in it around. He took a sip and then leaned back in his chair. "Yes, Sydney, the old man had to have my help. He doesn't have the power he used to."  
  
"Why would you help him?" Will asked. It was a question that several officers at the CIA had asked. Sark had his own power in the underground world now. They doubted Khasinau had anything to give him that he would want.  
  
"Old loyalty. To him some. To her mostly." He looked down at his wine and then took another sip.  
  
"She's dead." Will looked over at Sydney. Her voice was rock hard, and her eyes were ice chips. She used to cry about it, but apparently the years had numbed any grief she used to feel.  
  
"And you killed her," Sark said. "I remember. Don't you? The shock and the pride warring on her face as the blood poured out of her."  
  
Sydney showed no reaction, and Will barely kept himself from shuddering. He had never forgotten; he doubted anyone in that room that day had or ever would. "So you just wanted to cause Sydney some pain?"  
  
"Of course. I knew Khasinau's plan to make her betray this country would never work. I mean holding her family hostage was brilliant, but she's not one to sit back and not take action. Sydney follows her own path, and she's never worn the strings of a puppetmaster well. Telling him that you would get in touch after you got the documents confused him, made his footing unsure. Disappearing into that crowd was nothing short of brilliant," Sark answered with a grin.  
  
He reached over and picked up a notepad and pen. As he wrote in his usual slow and methodical way, he said, "He never really understood you. Just as he never really understood her. He thought because she took him into her bed that he was important."  
  
Tearing out the page, he tossed it across the table. Will looked down and saw a familiar neat writing. On the paper was an address. He looked up and saw Sark--or D'Anglis--or whatever he was going by these days--staring at them.  
  
"My mother didn't consider people important," Sydney finally said. Her voice echoed with the dull throb of the music.  
  
Sark grinned. "Oh, but she did. You were important. Even you father was. In different ways."  
  
Sydney's knuckles were white, as were the corners of her lips. "No, we weren't."  
  
"Ah, you keep trying to fit round pegs into square holes. You watched Jack's friendship with Will develop and you were jealous. I bet you've even watched him with your little boy and wondered why he gets from Jack what you never could."  
  
Sark stood up. "See, Sydney, you keep expecting your parents to fit into your mold, but they don't. Jack is far more than you've ever gave him credit for, and your mother wasn't only evil."  
  
Sydney stood up and started at him. He put his hand on her cheek. "Of course, having killed her, it must be easier to believe that she never cared, that she never loved you. Matricide must be hard to live with; even I've never committed that crime."  
  
Will resisted the urge to tell him to shut up. Sark was willing to help, and they all knew that this was his price. He was getting his chance to hurt Sydney for what happened, and it was obvious that some of his taunts were hitting home.  
  
"She would expect you and Jack to pay for what you did, but she never would have allowed Khasinau to hurt your father or you. Not really. Some mind games, some physical pain, but no permanent damage. Even in Berlin, she wouldn't let us kill any of you."  
  
Will's stomach twisted at the mention of Berlin. It had been the first time that the CIA had managed to defeat "the man" soundly, so it should have been a mission that brought him a feeling of joy. However, the three of them had barely survived it with their sanity intact.  
  
Sark looked at his watch. "I'm afraid that I'm busy, so if you don't mind, please leave."  
  
Sydney and Will both stood up and turned. "Oh, by the way, Will, I must admit that I'm stunned you came all this way to see me."  
  
Will looked at him without saying a word. "You do realize that without you watching her back, Sydney would not have succeeded that night, that you are just as much to blame as she is in her death?"  
  
Will yanked out his cell phone as he rushed from the room.  
  
*** End 5/?  
  
Next: Francie talks to Grandpa Jack, makes some decisions, and meets Syd's husband. 


	6. Chapter six

"I should have stayed home and got really drunk," Amy said as she slid down onto one of the beds. "I'm going to kill Jason when I see him."  
  
Francie was agreeing with her. A nice stiff drink would do her good. However, Amy could handle killing Jason alone; Francie was going to be too busy strangling Amy's brother when they got out of this mess.  
  
"Are you okay?" asked a friendly voice across the way.  
  
Francie looked into some of the greenest eyes that she'd ever seen and smiled. She knew it was probably scary, but it was the best she had to give. "Besides being hauled out of my home like we were sacks of groceries, we're fine."  
  
To her amazement, Jack Bristow actually smiled at her words. He rubbed the head of the little boy asleep in his lap, and Francie recalled the smile that had been on Sydney's face when she'd talked about her father and little boy's close relationship. "He's getting tired of the game."  
  
"The game?"  
  
The great-looking man that Francie could only assume was Sydney's husband nodded. "We told him that we're playing a game of hide and seek. He's been waiting for his mommy to find us for a long time. Now, he just wants to go home."  
  
"We'll have to get new identities--" Jack hesitated before calling the man 'Michael'. Francie could tell from the sad sigh the other man emitted that it was a name he hadn't been called in years.  
  
Reaching over, he stroked the young boy's hair which was so much like his own. "Yeah, but he'll think it's another game. Especially if Grandpa tells him it is."  
  
Francie was stunned by the look of sadness that crossed Jack's face. He looked up at her and smiled wistfully. "I lied to Sydney for so many years. I never wanted to lie to him."  
  
Her mouth dropped open. He didn't look upset by her surprise. "It's been several years, Francie. I've even stopped watching my back as closely as I did when you and Sydney were children."  
  
"But you still watch it?"  
  
The serious expression that she was used to seeing appeared. "Always. With good reason, as you can tell."  
  
He studied her and Amy, and Francie had an uncomfortable feeling that he knew them much better than she knew him. She wondered what Will had shared with him all those years ago. But after seeing Jack smile down at a small boy, Francie was starting to understand why her husband held him in high regard.  
  
"How did you end up here?" Michael asked.  
  
Amy groaned. "I'm dating the most perfect man in the world. Or at least he was perfect. Until tonight. I thought he was getting ready to propose-- not tonight but soon--and he says he wants to slow things down! Slow them down!" She grunted and bunched her fist.  
  
She sighed and shook her head. "I can't believe I'm upset about Jason. I've been kidnapped, and I'm complaining about a man. You know me, Francie; I never let men get to me. Say or do something I don't like, and I'm on to the next." Tears welled in her eyes.  
  
Francie went and sat down next to her. She laid her arm around Amy's shoulder and then leaned her head onto hers. "It's okay," she whispered. "That brother of yours will find us."  
  
Amy nodded and rested heavier against Francie, who sighed and looked over at the men. "Will came home for a few minutes around eight o'clock. He got a phone call and left, and Amy showed up around ten."  
  
Jack nodded. "Khasinau's men forced their way into the house a short time later?"  
  
Francie nodded. "Yeah, there was a knock at the door, and the guy claimed he was from the CIA." Her voice cracked. "He told me that had information about Will."  
  
She felt a shudder course its way through Amy, and she remembered her own horror at hearing those words. Opening that door had been the hardest thing she'd ever done in her life. Images from TV shows and movies had run through her mind: military wives and families getting the notification that their husbands and sons and daughters were never coming home again. Instead of telling her that her husband was dead, the man and his friends had forced their way into their home.  
  
"What about John?" Jack asked.  
  
"You know about my son?" Francie asked and then shook her head. "I'm sorry. I guess you get to keep up with us better than we do you."  
  
Michael was looking over at Jack with his eyebrows drawn up into a question. Jack looked uncomfortable as he admitted, "I read the Register every day online."  
  
Francie stared at the man she used to think of as the coldest bastard ever born. A man who had made her best friend cry through most of her high school years. Who had barely made it to her high school graduation--and had left immediately after it was finished--and had missed her college graduation completely.  
  
Jack Bristow, who had never had even one decent conversation with his daughter from Francie' perspective, was not the man she thought he was. "John's at his grandparents," she told him.  
  
Jack nodded and ran a hand across the little boy's head again. Francie watched the boy grin and snuggle down deeper into his grandfather's lap. She thought about Johnny snuggling with her, and she felt tears prick at her eyes.  
  
"Will's going to come," she said, more to herself than anyone. Just hearing the words gave her comfort. She might think Will was a lying jerk right now, but she also knew that he was dependable.  
  
"He's never let me down." Jack's words echoed her thoughts. At her look, he explained, "I trained him, Francie. I'd seen men who had volunteered to be a spy, who had trained for it for years, fall apart in the situations he faced before he even knew what was happening. He won't let us down."  
  
Amy shook her head. "No, he won't."  
  
Silence filled the air for several minutes. Finally, Francie asked, "Would you mind telling us exactly what it is that Will and Syd are going to rescue us from?"  
  
Jack and Michael both looked down at the sleeping boy. He continued to smile and snore. Michael looked to Jack to make the decision--Francie could see that if Jack decided that they didn't need to know, Michael wouldn't try to go around him. Years of respect for Jack were etched on his face.  
  
"Alexander Khasinau blames Sydney for her mother's death. He's looking to get revenge," Jack answered as he picked up his grandson and walked him over to the empty bed.  
  
Francie stared at him. "Sydney was a little girl when her mom died! She wasn't even in the car at the time."  
  
Michael looked over at Jack, and Francie was stunned at the sympathy in those eyes. It was only then that she realized that Jack wasn't looking at her. He was arranging pillows and pulling a blanket over Syd's Will, but that was only an excuse to hide his face. Whatever he was sharing with her was painful to him.  
  
"My wife was an undercover KGB agent," Jack told her as he put a stuffed animal next to the sleeping boy's arm. "She married me so she could steal secrets and assassinate other CIA agents. She faked her death in that accident."  
  
Amy shifted around and sat up straight. "Did Sydney always know that?"  
  
Jack looked at her. "Of course not. She was devastated when she was told."  
  
"The family who spies together lies together," Francie muttered and then shook her head. "What happened when she really died?"  
  
"Over the years--" He hesitated. "Laura had become the head of a large criminal organization. Sydney and I encouraged SD-6 to wage war against that organization. She had attacked SD-6 headquarters once, and I knew Sloane had taken it personally. He overextended SD-6's resources, making it vulnerable to the CIA."  
  
Michael took over the narrative. "An unexpected bonus for us--I worked for the CIA at the time. I was Sydney's handler--her liaison." He leaned against the stone wall behind him. "We had the unexpected bonus of watching her organization also overextended itself. We sent in agents on the same day to both headquarters, toppling them both."  
  
"I lead the team into SD-6," Jack said as he sat down. He was stiff and straight next to his relaxed son-in-law. "I was the senior agent, and it was decided that I was needed there."  
  
"I was with Jack. Sydney led the team--with Will--against her mother. Laura Bristow almost managed to kill Sydney, but Will was watching her back. He saved her, and then Sydney shot her own mother." Michael's eyes glazed over, and Francie knew he was remembering Sydney's reaction. It must have been a tough time for him, helping Sydney deal with her own grief and guilt.  
  
"Thus fulfilling the prophecy of 'vulgar cost'," he muttered.  
  
"Prophecy?" Francie was glad that she wasn't the only one who didn't understand. Amy's voice was dripping with confusion.  
  
"It doesn't matter," Jack answered.  
  
"You really don't want to know," Michael answered with a grin.  
  
"So, who is this Khasinau?" Amy asked as she leaned forward.  
  
Michael glanced over at Jack. "Her partner."  
  
"And her lover." Jack's voice was even and precise, but Francie could hear the pain in it, and she wondered if she--and Sydney--had missed hearing other emotions in his voice over the years. She used to think that flat voice was so cold, unemotional.  
  
"The organization lost everything when its leader fell. We managed to get into their core database that night, too. The CIA froze assets and arrested various cells. Khasinau escaped, but I don't think they spent a lot of time looking for him," Michael told them.  
  
"Of course, they didn't; they thought he was unimportant. They made the same mistake with him that they made with Laura." The bitterness in Jack's voice cut into Francie. She wondered what prices he'd paid over the years, and how many times the CIA had let him down.  
  
Michael drew his knees up, resting his feet on the bed. "Probably," he admitted.  
  
"So why kidnap you? Wouldn't it have been better to just kill you? Or kill her?"  
  
Francie looked over at her sister-in-law in surprise. Her voice was cool and calm. She sounded like a reporter asking the mayor about his recent sex scandal.  
  
"You are related to Will Tippin," Jack said. He smiled and Francie found herself returning it.  
  
Amy laughed. "Well, I learned a few things off of him over the years."  
  
"He's Russian," Jack supplied, answering Amy's question. "Straightforward revenge doesn't fill he need for drama."  
  
Michael laughed. "That's the old Cold War Spy in you coming out, Jack. I'm not sure I've ever met any great agent who didn't need a little drama. It's like you all crave it, even as you hate it."  
  
Jack threw a grin Michael's way. "True."  
  
"So, do you know the plan?"  
  
Nodding, Jack answered, "It fits his sense of justice for Sydney to die by her government's hands. He planned on her following his instructions: break into a government facility and steal documents that the US would never forgive her for taking."  
  
"He wanted her to be executed for treason?" Francie leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. She shook her head in disbelief. "I-- that's--"  
  
Michael looked down at his hands. "She knows his game though. She knows him."  
  
"She came to Will and the CIA instead of trying to do it alone," Francie realized.  
  
"It took him longer to figure it out than I expected. I think he gets Sydney confused with her mother," Jack said. "But, yes, she forced him to change his plans."  
  
"And that's why we are here," Amy whispered.  
  
No one answered. They didn't need to. 


	7. Chapter seven

"Tippin, you have a phone call," said one of the agents behind him.  
  
In the middle of tightening his vest, Will turned and told him to take a message. "We're about to raid a building, Bobby. I don't have time to talk on the damn phone."  
  
"It's a man named Jason; he says it's urgent. He's had to work hard to get this far," Bobby answered, obviously not taking Will's anger personally. Every man and woman in the van knew that Francie was now one of Khasinau's hostages.  
  
"Jason who--Oh, Jason." He yanked the cell phone from Bobby's hand and began talking. "Look, Jason, I'm sorry, but I'm really busy right now--"  
  
"Would you just tell her that I'm sorry," the tired voice on the other side said.  
  
Will wondered if he missed an important part of this conversation along the way. "Tell who?"  
  
"Amy. Look, I know she's mad, but--"  
  
"Jason, I'm sorry, but I don't know what's going on between you and Amy, but call her at home and work it out. I have a job--"  
  
"I'm at her place! She stormed out of here earlier to go speak to Francie, and I haven't been able to get anyone to answer at your house. If you see her, would you please tell her to call me? I didn't mean it; I thought that's what she wanted to hear. I love her--"  
  
Will found the strength to talk; his mouth felt dry as he asked, "Amy went over to see Francie?"  
  
"Yeah, I was an idiot. I bought a ring today--I was planning on asking her Friday--and Amy was acting all weird tonight, and I thought she was scared of getting too close, so I told her that I wanted to slow things down, but I--"  
  
Sydney's eyes stared into his, and Will forced himself to get control of himself. It wouldn't do anyone any good for him to start screaming. No one else outside the CIA needed to know that his family was in danger. "Jason, Amy's ready for commitment and settling down, and she's decided that you're the one. She wasn't upset about you getting too close, but about some problems between me and Francie, got it?"  
  
He could hear Jason nodding over the telephone. He knew he didn't sound like his usual laid back self. He sounded like his CIA self, but he didn't have time for anything else. "Try asking her next time what's bothering her; it will save you a lot of trouble."  
  
"Yeah, I suppose it would," Jason said with a hint of self-mockery.  
  
"I know that you're going to marry my baby sister, but I want you to remember that I loved her first. You hurt her, and I will kill you. Painfully. Do you understand?"  
  
Jason was silent for a minute, probably stunned by Will's matter-of-fact tone. "Yeah, I do. I have a kid sister, too."  
  
"Good. Welcome to the family," he said. "I think I know where Francie and Amy might be. I'll see if I can get her to call you."  
  
"Thank you," Jason sighed.  
  
Will handed the phone back to Bobby just as the van stopped. "It appears that Khasinau has another hostage." Everybody around him stood still, waiting for him to finish. "My sister Amy."  
  
***  
  
"As far as being held against your will, I'm willing to bet that there are worse places to be held at," Amy said, obviously tired of the silence.  
  
Michael and Jack looked at each other. "There are," the older man finally answered.  
  
"Yeah, I would think he'd want you miserable, but this place isn't half bad," Francie said, leaning her head on her hand. She yawned.  
  
Jack looked over at his grandson. "Will is her grandson. He can't bring himself to hurt him, so we get treated well to keep him happy."  
  
"He's sleeping so peacefully," she sighed.  
  
Nodding, Jack stood up and stretched. "There are a lot worse places than this."  
  
Francie looked over at Amy and then at Michael. "I keep thinking about Berlin," she admitted, surprising herself. Ever since they'd bounded her hands and stuck a bag over her head, she'd thought about the look on Will's face as he told her about Berlin; she'd feared that she and Amy would be treated the same way.  
  
Jack tensed up in front of her, and she watched a white line appear around Michael's mouth. "He told you about Berlin?" Jack's voice was tired and distant.  
  
"Not really," she admitted. She shifted around and wished she'd kept her mouth closed. "I asked him something and--"  
  
"And he told you the truth." Jack looked over at Michael. "It wasn't a good mission."  
  
"It was two weeks before you all could even use cover-up to hide the bruises," Michael growled. "That bitch."  
  
"The physical wasn't the worse," Jack admitted. Francie suddenly knew that the older man knew the whole story, knew the question that she had asked. He wanted to reassure her that what Will said was true, that it had been a hard time emotionally for him. "We weren't tortured to talk. Laura knew that wasn't going to be effective, and she liked being efficient. We were tortured to get the others to talk."  
  
Francie heard Amy gasp, but she was too numb to even move. "We were rotated. First Sydney was beaten while we were forced to watch. Then Will, then me, then Sydney again. It continued until I thought I would go mad." A shudder traveled through her body as she thought about exactly how bad it had to have been in order to get to Jack Bristow, a man who had probably seen far more than she wanted to know.  
  
He stared down at his hands. "Will is the one who managed to get lose first. He was covered in his own blood when he took down the guards. When he was finished, you couldn't tell what was his and what belonged to the guards'."  
  
"You didn't go with Will and Syd," Francie said. She remembered Will's tears, and she wanted to cry for him. But she didn't have the strength.  
  
"No, I stayed to do the job we'd been assigned to do. Will had to drag Sydney out. We all knew that there was no possible way for me to destroy that facility and live."  
  
He sounded so blasé about it all. Like he was talking about someone else, and maybe that was the only way he could discuss it. He sighed. "But Laura knew me, and she had a map drawn showing me how to escape."  
  
"You were still badly burned," Michael said, and while his voice was flat, Francie could feel the heat of his anger from across the room.  
  
Michael looked over at the wall. "J--" He stopped as if remembering their cover and the names that Francie knew them by. "Sydney still wakes up occasionally sweating and crying."  
  
Francie thought of nights holding Will, thinking he was haunted by images he had seen as a reporter. "Will does, too," she whispered.  
  
She wished Will was here. She wanted to feel his arms around her. She wanted to talk to him, to hear his calm voice tell her that everything was going to be okay.  
  
Hearing a man yell, she turned towards the door. She flinched as she heard what sounded like machine gun fire. A hand--Jack's or Michael's wrapped itself around her arm and yanked. She found herself behind one of the beds, which had somehow ended up being turned on its side.  
  
Bodies piled in around her, hiding behind the meager cover of the bed frame and mattresses. "Calvary's here," Michael said as he curled his body around his crying son. "Don't worry; Mommy's here to get us."  
  
***  
  
Later, Francie watched the chaos around her. She couldn't believe all the action happening outside this one tiny building. Watching Will, Jack, and Sydney was amazing. They were calm, cool, totally at ease with the men and women running around with machine guns in their arms and bullet-proof vests around their chests.  
  
She looked over at her husband's name sake and smiled. He was no longer crying. He'd stopped as soon as he'd rushed into his mother's arms earlier. Now he fascinated with all the flashing lights and "police."  
  
She looked up at the man she was married to; she wanted to pretend that everything was okay now. Khasinau was dead--how or by whose hands Will and Sydney wouldn't tell her. However, listening to those guns firing and knowing that Will was out there made her realize exactly what could happen to him one day. Being married to a report had been hard; being married to a spy would be beyond her sanity threshold.  
  
"I can't take you leaving all the time and not knowing what you might be doing or when you're coming back. I can't pretend that you are only going to an interview," she said with a calmness that surprised her.  
  
He glanced over his shoulder and then nodded. "I know; I already told my boss that I want a desk job."  
  
Her mouth fell open. "You're leaving the paper?"  
  
"I can't pretend anymore, Francie," he told her. "I don't have the strength to even lie to myself. I haven't been much of a reporter for years. It's time that I quiet acting like I am."  
  
She shivered and hugged herself, even though the air was warm. He was giving up his first choice of career with an ease that hurt. What else was he willing to give up? "We're going to work this out, aren't we?"  
  
Will smiled. "Yeah, we are. I'm not going to give you up without a fight, Francie."  
  
She could breathe again. "I have a lot of questions--"  
  
He put his hands on her shoulders. "I can't promise that I'll answer them all. I'm not sure that I can, but I'll tell you what I can."  
  
Nodding, she thought about the pain in Jack's eyes that she had glimpsed earlier. She realized she didn't want to hear all the details. She took a step forward. "It's going to take some time."  
  
"I know," he replied, squeezing her shoulders.  
  
"Hey, Tippin, we need you over here," a man yelled.  
  
Will looked over at his shoulder. "Go," she said before he could say anything back to the man. He looked back at her. "I want you to take care of all of this tonight, so that when you get home, you're all mine."  
  
He grinned and nodded. "I like the sound of that." With a quick kiss on her forehead, he left her standing alone. She looked over to where Amy stood talking on a cell phone. The smile on her face told Francie that Amy's discussion with Jason was going just fine.  
  
She looked towards her right and saw Sydney standing in the arms of her husband. They looked good together; comfortable, and very much in love. Jack stood with his grandson hanging onto his neck. The light smile on his lips spoke of a contentment that Francie envied. Just as she was about to wonder over to where Amy was obviously finishing up her call, Sydney turned and looked at her.  
  
A small, familiar smile touched her friend's lips. Francie had missed that smile. Tears started to fall before she even realized that she was feeling sad. Sydney turned and said something to her Michael before walking towards her. Francie could see the hesitancy in those steps, but she couldn't move towards Sydney. She wanted to, but something inside her was frozen.  
  
"Hey," Syd said as she pushed her hair behind her ear.  
  
It was another familiar gesture--although the hair was now much shorter and lighter in color--and it made Francie cry harder. "I'm sorry. It's just that I missed you so much."  
  
Sydney hugged her. "I've missed you, too, sweety."  
  
Francie pulled back and stared at Sydney's face. The lines were deeper now, of course. Time had made its mark, but it had only made Sydney more beautiful. Distinguished.  
  
However, Francie's eyes had been opened to more now. She could see the lines that years of emotional pain and stress had etched onto her friend's face, too. "I wish I had known you."  
  
"You did," Sydney answered.  
  
Francie nodded, in some ways understanding. "I know. But I never got to know all of you. I think I would like to have had the chance to hear about your Michael, to hear about how your relationship with Jack changed, hear about how you really felt."  
  
Sydney looked over at Will and a sad smile touched her lips. "I told Danny the truth, Francie, and they killed him. When Will found out, I told him that I was glad that he knew because I could be honest with him at last."  
  
Her friend sighed. "You know what they say about the grass being greener on the other side? I thought being able to tell him the truth would make him a closer friend. Instead, it changed everything. We never sat back and just relaxed with each other after Will found out. Watching a movie was rough because we both were sitting there thinking that we should be doing something to bring in the bad guys. Regular conversation was stilted.  
  
"I needed the normal; I just thought being honest was what I needed." Syd shook her head. "Dixon never told Diane, and I thought it was because he was so loyal to SD-6--or the CIA like he thought it was. But it wasn't loyalty--he just understood how much normal is needed."  
  
Sydney squeezed her hand. "Thank you so much for giving me that, even though you didn't know it."  
  
Francie sighed. "You're going to leave again, aren't you?"  
  
The sad smile told her all she needed to know. Apparently, there were still people who would hurt Sydney and Jack if they knew they were alive. She looked over at Michael, somehow knowing without being told, that he'd left his life to be with Sydney. He wasn't in hiding for his own safety. She looked over at Will and wondered if she could leave everything behind for him, for their family. Then, she smiled because she knew she would. "I'm going to make sure he enjoys normal."  
  
Syd laid her head over on Francie's shoulder. "Good, because he needs to. Before I left, he told me he was going to get out." There was a hint of anger in her voice.  
  
"He said he asked his boss for a desk job," Francie told her friend. She didn't doubt it was the truth; he was ready to get out of the field or whatever they called it.  
  
"He did," Sydney said. "I don't think his boss was too happy with him either, but he said he would take care of it as soon as Khasinau was taken care of."  
  
Francie sighed. "I'm going to miss you."  
  
"It's going to be even harder leaving you this time," Sydney choked out with tears streaming down her face.  
  
The two friends hugged each other tight in the middle of chaos. 


	8. Chapter eight

"When you hold a baby in your arms, the whole world feels right, you know?" Amy said as she slid her niece into arms of her waiting mother.  
  
"Yeah, it does," Francie said as she looked down at her daughter. The little mouth opened to yawn, the eyes blinked several times in resistance, and then finally the newborn fell into sleep.  
  
Amy grinned. "I think she has Will's stubbornness."  
  
"My stubbornness?" Will laughed as he walked into the room. "I think she got it from someone else."  
  
The last year had been good for him. The tension that he used to carry, tension that Francie never even noticed because it had grown to be such a part of him, was gone. He smiled more, laughed more, and even cried more. He'd shared nightmares with her--never all the details, just vague hints that hurt to hear--and he'd even invited some of his CIA buddies over for dinner and football parties.  
  
Hard to imagine that a year ago, she hadn't even suspected that part of his life existed. "It's been a year exactly," Francie realized as she glanced over at her digital calendar.  
  
Will only nodded. She had spent almost seven years of marriage dreading this date, but now Will was acting as if it was only another day. "No, I'm not," he told her as if he could read her thoughts. "Today is the day everything started to change, but I realized last week that it wasn't all bad. I didn't need to grieve over what I'd lost anymore, because I've gained far more than I've ever lost."  
  
Francie looked down at their youngest child and grinned. "Sappy, Will, sappy," Amy said as she gathered her purse. "I'm going to go meet Jason and Johnny over at Mom and Dad's."  
  
"Why is Johnny staying over at Mom and Dad's tonight anyway?" Will asked as he stroked his daughter's cheek. Francie had left a message with his secretary earlier informing him that their oldest would be staying with his grandparents tonight; she made sure to leave the message with her instead of talking to him. He would have asked too many questions that she wasn't prepared to answer over the phone.  
  
Francie grinned as Amy rolled her eyes. "Yes, you are the slow one," Amy said, lifting up on her feet to give her brother a kiss on the cheek. "But I love you anyway."  
  
Struggling not to laugh at her husband's confused look, Francie walked down the hall to her daughter's bedroom. She had been a surprise baby, but the minute Francie had learned of her existence, she had loved her. "Goodnight, Sydney," she whispered.  
  
Will had been surprised when she suggested that name. In some ways, she'd surprised herself. Before they'd known Johnny's sex, they'd discussed girl names, and she'd flatly refused to consider "Sydney" as an option.  
  
However, the day the doctor had grinned and told her "You're pregnant, Mrs. Tippin," she'd known the baby she was carrying was a girl. And she'd known what she wanted to name her. "It doesn't hurt to think about Sydney anymore, Will," she'd explained. "Besides, our daughter was conceived during our trip to Australia. It just feels like she was meant to be named Sydney."  
  
Francie had been on a few trips with Will during the past year, but Australia had been the first. "I want to show you the world, Francie," he'd told her. "Let me show you the places that I've seen." She had fretted about leaving her restaurant for so long, but she'd given in, and she was glad she had.  
  
They stood several minutes staring down at their sleeping child. It was only when she reached down to take his hand that she noticed the gift bag it. "What's that?"  
  
Will smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Weiss got it in the mail yesterday, and he brought it to me this morning. Said he knew it was meant for us."  
  
Taking the bag from his hand, she headed towards the rocking chair in the corner. She peered down into the bag. When she saw the beautiful mobile, she gasped. Pulling it out, she examined it. "Oh, Will, this is gorgeous."  
  
He nodded. "Yeah, it is."  
  
"I don't--" she started to say before she noticed the sheet of paper inside the bag. She took it out and read "Knew you would love this. Love, SMJ William."  
  
She grinned and hugged the mobile. "They thought of a way to send us a gift for the baby."  
  
"I guess Jack's still reading the paper for birth announcements," Will said with a smile. "I thought it might make you sad."  
  
"No, not at all," she said as she slid the gift back into the bag. "It lets us know that they are alright, and that they are still a part of our lives--even if it is only from a distance."  
  
Will sank down on his knees in front of her. "Some of the analysts are starting to say that it might be safe in a couple of years for them to start making sporadic visits--if they want. Most of the old guard is dead, and what's left is falling quickly."  
  
"As long as she's safe, I hope so," Francie sighed. "I want her to meet our children." She looked into her husband's blue eyes and grinned. "I even want Jack to meet our kids."  
  
He smiled and leaned his forehead next to hers. "Maybe it will be safe enough for us to visit them at a neutral place soon. Maybe."  
  
Francie wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "I miss her."  
  
"I do, too."  
  
Sighing, she leaned back. "I think I understand why you never told me." Will opened his mouth, and she put her fingers over his lips. "I really do. I dreamed of her last night, and she was running, and I couldn't help her. I felt so helpless when I woke up, but I'm still glad I found out the truth, too."  
  
"I'm sorry," he whispered.  
  
She shook her head. "You've apologized enough; I just wanted to tell you about it."  
  
He glanced over at their daughter and the grin on his face melted her heart. "I can't believe Johnny wanted to leave the baby; he's usually in here watching her sleep."  
  
"He wasn't happy about it," she admitted.  
  
Will looked at her. "You mean he didn't ask to go?"  
  
"Oh, no," Francie said with a smile. She stood up and reached down for her husband's hand. With eyebrows raised in confusion, he took it and stood up straight. "He was not happy with me for making him leave Sydney."  
  
"So why did you make him?"  
  
Grinning, Francie turned and walked up close to her husband. "You've been working way too much the last few days."  
  
"Yeah, I know," he said as he yawned. "And Sydney hasn't been letting us get much sleep either."  
  
She took another step forward. "I had my doctor's appointment today."  
  
"Doctor's appointment? Everything's okay, isn't it?" He stopped, realized what she was saying, and grinned. "You've been released."  
  
"Yeah," she sighed as she leaned up to kiss him. "I have."  
  
He wrapped his arms around her waist. "As Amy said, I'm a little slow."  
  
"I've noticed," she said with a smile.  
  
Leaning down, he kissed her. Slowly. Tenderly. Then, he licked her lips, asking her to open them. She did and his tongue slid into her mouth. He finally pulled away she groaned. "I'm thinking slow might be the best way to night. Slow and long. If you are up to it?"  
  
"Oh, I'm definitely up to it," she answered. "I'm just hoping you can keep up with me." She turned on her heels and walked towards their bedroom.  
  
Will laughed but quickly followed her. And when he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her to him, Francie felt like everything was right in the world.  
  
***  
  
The end!  
  
Finally. A big "Thank you!" to all those still reading for your patience and wonderful feedback. I appreciate them both more than I can say 


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